A Scandal By Any Other Name

The servant boy stopped instantly. He turned back around, his eyes wide with slight worry. He thought he had done something wrong.

"What is it, Your Grace?" the servant boy asked quickly. "Is the tea not hot enough? Shall I fetch a different pot?"

"The tea is fine," Rowan spoke quickly, waving his hand to dismiss the boy’s fears.

Rowan took a step closer. He looked at the young boy with a completely serious, deeply earnest expression on his face. He needed an honest opinion from someone who was not a stuffy London lord.

"I need your help with something important," Rowan said, his voice lowering slightly.

The servant boy looked confused. "My help, Your Grace?"

Rowan nodded his head. He gestured with his hand toward the bed, pointing to the scattered wardrobe.

"I will be courting my wife tomorrow," Rowan said.

As soon as the word left his mouth, Rowan caught his own mistake. A bright, warm flush of pink color touched his cheeks. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest. He had called her his wife. It was what he wanted more than anything in the world, and his mind had simply spoken his deepest desire.

"Sorry," Rowan quickly corrected himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I mean, my intended. I will be taking her for a stroll in her gardens tomorrow afternoon."

The servant boy listened quietly, still trying to understand what a powerful Duke could possibly need from him.

"I do not know what to wear," Rowan confessed. He looked at the servant with genuine, helpless honesty. "I have looked at every coat in my trunk. I want to look perfectly proper, but not too stiff. Can you help me pick one?"

The servant boy was entirely shocked. His jaw dropped open slightly. A Duke of the realm was asking a lowly inn servant for fashion advice regarding a courtship. It was highly unusual.

But the Duke looked so sincere, and so incredibly nervous, that the boy could not help but smile.

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Of course, Your Grace," the servant boy agreed happily. "I would be honored to help you."

The boy walked over to the large bed. He did not touch the expensive fabrics, but he looked very closely at the different colors and styles laid out on the white blanket.

He looked at the dark navy blue coat, the burgundy coat, and the gray coat. Then, his eyes stopped on a piece of clothing resting near the very bottom of the pile.

The servant boy carefully pointed his finger at a specific coat.

"That one, Your Grace," the boy suggested politely.

Rowan stepped forward and picked up the coat the boy had chosen.

It was a very nice, expertly tailored coat made of soft, high-quality wool. The color was a deep, rich forest green. It was an elegant color, but it was not too bright or too dark. It looked completely natural and perfectly suited for a walk in the country gardens.

Rowan held the green coat up. He turned and looked at his reflection in the tall standing mirror.

"This one?" Rowan asked, examining the color against his skin.

"Yes, Your Grace," the servant boy nodded firmly, his confidence growing. "If I may speak freely, the deep green color is very handsome. This would go very well with your blond hair, Your Grace. It makes your hair look brighter. And it is not too formal for a walk outside."

Rowan turned his head, looking at the coat from different angles. He realized the boy was absolutely right. The forest green was perfect. It was elegant, masculine, and relaxed. It would not look out of place among the trees and flowers of the Oakridge estate.

But Rowan still had one final, massive worry.

Rowan turned away from the mirror. He looked directly at the young servant boy. His eyes were completely serious

.

"Will she like it?" Rowan asked. His voice was soft, holding a trace of genuine vulnerability.

The servant boy smiled a wide, reassuring smile. He saw the deep, honest love in the Duke’s eyes.

"Certainly, Your Grace," the boy replied with absolute confidence. "Any lady would be very happy to walk beside a gentleman wearing that coat. She will think you look wonderful."

Rowan felt a massive, heavy weight lift completely off his broad shoulders. The stressful decision was finally made. He let out a long, highly relieved breath.

A bright, genuine smile spread across Rowan’s face.

"Thank you," Rowan said happily. "You have been a very great help to me today."

Rowan reached into the small pocket of his trousers. He pulled out five pieces of silver coins. It was a very generous tip, far more than a servant would normally earn in an entire week of hard work.

Rowan stepped forward and pressed the silver coins firmly into the boy’s hand.

"For your excellent advice," Rowan told him, closing the boy’s fingers around the coins.

The servant boy gasped quietly as he felt the silver. His eyes widened in pure delight.

"Oh! Thank you, Your Grace!" the boy bowed very deeply, almost bending completely in half. "Thank you very much! Enjoy your meal, Your Grace!"

The boy turned and hurried out of the room, closing the door gently behind him, completely thrilled with his sudden good fortune.

Rowan stood alone in his quiet room. He held the deep green coat carefully in his hands.

He walked over to the tall wooden wardrobe standing near the wall. He opened the doors. He very carefully placed the green coat on a smooth wooden hanger. He hung it neatly inside the wardrobe, making sure there was not a single wrinkle in the soft wool. He also selected a clean white shirt, a matching pale waistcoat, and a fresh, crisp cravat for tomorrow.

He kept the outfit perfectly prepared and ready.

With his mind finally at peace, and his wardrobe crisis completely solved, Rowan felt his stomach rumble loudly.

He walked over to the small round table by the window. He sat down in the wooden chair.

He poured himself a hot cup of tea from the small pot. He picked up a piece of warm, buttered toast and took a large bite. The food tasted absolutely delicious.

He looked out the glass window of the inn. He could see the rolling green hills of the countryside in the distance. Somewhere beyond those hills was Oakridge Manor, and inside that grand house was his Delaney.

Rowan smiled as he drank his tea and ate his fresh fruits.